


when the hurricanes came for me

by roachpatrol



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Black Romance, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Consent, F/M, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Red Romance, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 03:22:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roachpatrol/pseuds/roachpatrol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sorry,” Eridan says, abashed.</p>
<p>“We don’t have to do this,” Feferi says, “if you don’t want us to.”</p>
<p>“I want,” you croak. “I do, I, I’m sorry. Fuck.” Your throat locks up after that, but you take Feferi’s hand and put it firmly back on your hip. “Come on, let’s get this freakshow on the road.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	when the hurricanes came for me

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [the royal treatment](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/26734) by liasangria. 



“Relax, Crabsnack,” Feferi murmurs in your ear, like it could be that easy. You’re so stressed you’re going to die. You’re so stressed you’re probably already dead. Eridan puts one cool, kind of damp hand—clammy, that’s the word only it’s not unpleasant at all—at the edge of your pants, and your insides fucking churn when you feel one soft thumb skate along your stomach. His face is a study in optimism, and you think a traditional culling might hurt your heart less than… whatever this is. This dissection.

“Nn,” you manage, and he goes still.

“He likes you,” Feferi whispers. “I like you. You’re pretty, Carpcatch, you’re so—”

“No,” you finally grit out. “No, stop. Stop. This is insane.”

Their hands jolt off you like you’re burning them, and you bury your face against your fists for a long minute.

“Sorry,” Eridan says, abashed.

“We don’t have to do this,” Feferi says, “if you don’t want us to.”

“I want,” you croak. “I do, I, I’m sorry. Fuck.” Your throat locks up after that, but you take Feferi’s hand and put it firmly back on your hip. “Come on, let’s get this freakshow on the road.”

“You’re not a freak,” Feferi says.

“I was talking about Eridan,” you say. “I hear his bulge crawled up his nook and fused.”

“Abject slander put aboat by my enemies,” Eridan protests, and goes for the button on his ridiculously tight trousers. “I’d be fuckin’ delighted to demonstrate the workin’ order’a my mating tackle—”

“Slow your fucking roll,” Feferi says firmly, and you relax a little more. You guide Eridan’s hand back to your front, and bite back a squeak when he sneaks fingers up your shirt again. Feferi strokes soft, sweet little circles into your side, your hip, and you don’t manage to stifle a gasp when she dips down against your waistband. You feel like your face is going to catch on fire any minute now.

“Hey,” Eridan says, leaning in. "Hey, Kar, hey."

“What,” you bite out.

“I really like you, man,” he says.

“Oh,” you say, startled and embarrassed. “Thank you.”

Feferi laughs, burying her face in the back of your shoulder. Eridan just smiles, kind of wan and tentative, and slides his hand up further along your stomach. Seadwellers have iron bones, and he pushes you down and back against his kismesis’s soft chest easily. You press your hands flat against the cool tile floor and wait, and his fingers keep going until they hit gill.

“Oh,” he says softly.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter. You can’t bear to look at his face.  

“No, shh, it’s okay,” he says, stroking along a trembling lower rim and  _fuck_  his hands are soft, and fuck, does that ever feel good. “It’s okay, Kar.”

“ _Sea,_ ” Feferi says to the back of your head. You’ve never heard so much smug crammed into such a short word.

“You don’t…. mind?” you ask.

“If I did I suspect you and Feferi would have a fight to see who got to wear my skull as a hat,” he muses, and pulls your shirt up a little higher. “But why would I? These’re lovely, Kar. You got wider opercula than near anyone I ever seen.”

“You’re a hottie,” Feferi translates.

“I’m a mutant.”

“So’s that pissant Captor, and he’s a hottie too,” Eridan says. “And he can go die in a hoofbeast stampede.”

“ _Eridan_ ,” Feferi chides.

“Well he can, I’m just sayin’, I got a right to say things, don’t I? You were the one datin’ him so don’t act like you’re not in strict agreement. ‘Sides, Kar, we all know you’re not on the spectrum, so you might as well be not on the  _top_  of the spectrum with us folks as would treat you properly respectable.”

This, then, is about as logical as Eridan ever gets, and you’re grateful for it. He pulls your shirt hem up to your chest and Feferi takes it from there. When your face clears the last of the fabric you’re treated to the sight of Eridan Ampora, terror of the seas, leaning in to kiss his way tenderly along every inappropriate gillslit you have, drawing a wake of pathetic twitches and whimpers from you with every descending touch of his stupid, beautiful mouth.  

“Can I?” he murmurs, finally, his lips against the infinite vulnerability of your stomach and your body a mess of cold shivers, and the highblood hooks one polished claw through the buttonhole of your jeans.

You chirp, reflexively. “I-I-I mean,” you swallow hard, “y-yeah, it’s your funeral. If you can’t handle what you find down there.”

“I don’t bite off more than I can chew,” Eridan retorts, which is the least reassuring thing anyone has ever said about your generative equipment to date.

He gets your fly open and your briefs pulled down, and Feferi immediately takes the opportunity to cup your butt. You yelp high enough to break glass. Her hands are fucking  _cold_ , and you accidentally knee Eridan right in the hipster specs.

“Shit—” you hiss.

“Fuck!” Eridan whines, scrabbling after them.

“Oh my cod, don’t put them back on, what the shell’s wrong with you,” Feferi says. She spares a hand from your ass to pluck Eridan’s glasses out of his claws and toss them across the room. There’s a crunch.

“ _Fef!_ ”

“It’s not like you need depth perception for his bulge,” she chides.

“Wow, flattering,” you growl.

“Oh.” She pauses for a minute. Then instead of apologizing for the slight to your base anatomy’s  _not-inconsiderable_  proportions, she starts giggling.

“Fuck you both,” you decide, and struggle to get up. This time instead of freezing up and backing off like kind and decent people, the two nautical monstrosities you’ve been saddled with just hang on. Feferi goes back to feeling up your glutes like she thinks she’s going to win prizes for it.

Eridan leans forward and in one startling, graceful move, gets your bulge past his fangs and into his throat.

You scream, and sit back down hard. By some miracle this does not result in your junk getting severed at the root. He follows you back into Feferi’s lap and then you have two sets of grasping apparatuses all over your ass and you don’t even care.

“Fuck,” you keen, and pet shakily at Eridan’s hair. "Fuck, oh fuck, yes." You have no idea what to do with yourself, all you can focus on is the relentless cool constriction around the end of your bulge, and the way he’s curling his tongue around the middle section. Teeth? What teeth. You don’t give a shit. He chuckles, low and  _fluttering_  around your length, and you give up on propriety entirely and grab his rack.

“He likes if you squeeze the bases real hard,” Feferi murmurs, which, when you try that, turns out to be a lie. He squeals in pain and scores vicious pink lines into Feferi’s thighs, and when she shrieks challenge the state of everyone’s teeth becomes a really vivid concern. You can feel your nook practically gluing itself shut with fear.

“Easy,” you gasp out, gentling at Eridan’s face as hard as you can. “Guys, please, come on.”

Feferi pulls you farther up against her, away from Eridan and more specifically Eridan’s  _mouth_ , and when you whimper out a complaint about this he snarls, possessively, and flares his fins up at Feferi.

“Mine,” he hisses, and okay, fangs,  _way_  too many fangs being displayed way too close to your rapidly recoiling bulge, and then Feferi  _snarls back_. 

“Guys,” you squeak, kind of flailing limp-handedly. They’re growling at each other at a register low enough to rattle all your cartilage. You smack Eridan right on the nose. “Guys! Chill the fuck out!”

Eridan licks a long cranky stripe up your nervous bulge once, twice, like he’s establishing it’s still there. Feferi just pulls you more tightly against her, till you wonder how that’s not hurting her tits. It’s kind of hurting your spine.

“You, calm the hell down and no more clawing,” you snap at Eridan, then shove a horn back against the princess’s jaw. “And you, no tricking me into hurting him, you’ve got two working flippers, you can dish out your own pitch. Alright?”

“She started it,” Eridan mutters.

“Shut the fuck up, I don’t care. I said,  _alright_?”

“Yes, Karkat,” he mutters.  

You bonk Feferi with your horn again, getting dangerously ashen for a kid with his pants around his knees. “Alright?”

“Yes, Karkat,” she sighs, then slides her fingers up across your gillslits and lays a big wet kiss to your cheek. Your stern leaderly resolve gets kind of hazy with the relief that you haven’t just totally killed the mood and chucked its corpse to the beasts. You’re sensitive as hell along your opercula, it hardly takes a half a minute before you’re chirping for her, prickling with heat all through your nook and bulge. You wonder if it’s normal to turn on this fast from just this much, or if you’re just starved for attention. Like hell are you going to ask. But she strokes gently at the ridges of dark skin and stiff cartilage and you keen, choked off and hesitant, still too shy about all of this to really trust in the rising pleasure but not wanting it to stop, not wanting her to stop, not wanting her to ever stop. Everywhere she touches you burns.

“I want to fill you,” she lets you know, her voice a low near-feral rumble in your aural shell, and it sizzles all down your spine. “Pupa, sweetheart, I want to  _take_  you.”

“Fuck yes,” you agree dazedly. Maybe this is going kind of fast but you want it, you’re almost frantic with want. “Someone take me, please.” You can feel her bulge squirming against your ass, the rumple of her skirt all silky and slick and you want it really badly.

Feferi pulls and you wriggle, throwing your head back against her shoulder as you try and get your hips up and your legs apart, and when the tip of her bulge finds your nook she makes the softest, most reverent moan you’ve ever heard, and that’s including every porno you’ll never admit to watching. Her length slides into you smooth and cool, and then farther in and you’d have second thoughts if it didn’t feel so fucking great. By the time she gets you settled sheath-deep against her she’s chirping fast and ragged and you’re so stuffed it aches, your seedflap stretched and spasming against the intense pressure. You didn’t think it’d be anything like this, it’s nothing like using your fingers. You can feel your flap working on taking in the steady pulse and flow of her genetic material and the sweet chill just fucking lights you up inside until you’re incoherent with the pleasure of it all, of everything. You can feel her fin fluttering against your cheek and it’s not too hard to turn your face against it and lap at the points.

“Karkat,” she gasps, “oh, fuck, Karkat, you’re so good, sweetie, oh,  _fuck_ ,” and you feel amazing. Then Eridan comes to the end of his tolerance for being ignored and gets his mouth back against your bulge and you feel even better than that. This time you stroke his horns gently and purr for him, relaxing entirely into the attention.

“Take his stupid cape off,” Feferi says.

“Fnngh,” you manage.

Eridan pulls off you. “Cape stays on,” he says shortly.

“Fnngh!” you protest, and tug him by the headgear. He gives you a soft, weird smile, and swallows you down again. When Feferi growls and jostles you imploringly you just roll with it, enjoying yourself too much to care. Fuck, she’s so big and so wet you feel like maybe your genetic bladder is having it out with all your other organs for space and winning. You can feel Eridan’s throat working smoothly at your bulge, swallowing all  _your_  material down too, and you wonder dizzily what the fuck is even going to happen to him when you really lose it. You feel close, loose-limbed and giddy with pleasure, spun out molten-warm and careless between the two cool points of seadwellers who somehow think you’re cute enough to do this shit to. Eridan pets gently at your thighs, at the taut hood of your bone bulge’s sheath, at the intensely sensitive bit of flesh where the straining underside of your bulge connects to the top of your stuffed nook. You hiss and then he presses a finger in, farther, alongside Feferi’s bulge, and she snarls.

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” she spits, and you can feel clawtips at your gills, skittering little lighting-pricks of pain mixing in with the blurry pleasure.

He just smirks and that’s still too much teeth but you don’t even care, and then you and Feferi both moan at the feeling of Feferi’s bulge being hauled back out of you. Just a little, and the way it  _thrashes_ , trying to coil back in, and the way she cries out and clings to you is so intense you feel like you’re going to short out, just lose all your shit forever. She kisses your shoulder, the side of your throat, just beneath your finless ear.

“Eridan,” you cry out, “fuck, Feferi,  _guys_ , I-I can’t handle this, you’re s-so good, you’re both… fuck, f-fuck, oh, it’s too good, fuck.”

Eridan hums out a low, pleased note that rolls all along your bulge, back up into your nook even, and he’s still playing tug-of-war with Feferi’s bulge and that really, finally, and completely is too much. Too much stimulation, too much fluid, too much suction, your seedflap working desperately to keep Feferi’s slurry inside while the rest of your nook tries to get her still-active bulge out of there at the same time you’re nearly throttling Eridan with your slurry down his throat, fuck, that’s gross, it feels so good, you’re amazed at how he just takes it. With an embarrassingly loud shriek you’re hit with a climax so sharp and intense you’re basically getting mugged, like getting a shout pole rammed up your entire nervous system, like being told ENOUGH by every part of you at once. You shake and cry, overwhelmed, and squirm weakly away from them both. Eridan pulls off the final time as gracefully as anything he’s done so far but Feferi’s bulge thrashes all the way out of you, still viciously eager.

“You,” you say muzzily, feeling thoroughly panfucked but still kind of concerned as you flop flat against the cool tiles. You gesture at her bulge. “Are you…?”

She laughs, softly, and twists down to catch your mouth. Her kiss is soft and undemanding, and she ruffles your hair.

“How do you feel?” she asks.

“Perfect,” you say. “I… yeah. Perfect.”

Eridan stoops down for his own kiss, a lot deeper and a lot hungrier. He tastes sharply of your slurry and you don’t give the slightest fraction of a fuck.

“We should stuff you more often,” he says roughly. “Have you full all the time, if it’ll keep you smilin’ like that.”

“I’m not smiling,” you lie. “You’re smiling. You’re a big stupid jerk who wears a cape during sex.”

“I told you to take it off him,” Feferi says.

“Do it your own self,” you mutter, and curl up around the tight sweet roil of your genetic repository inside you, savoring the ache, the warm persistent heaviness. You can feel your own genetic material starting to mix with hers, distractingly nice, and when you press a hand to your abdomen just that slightest touch gets you shivery with nerves and pleasure. You’ll need a pail, soon, but not yet, not while you still feel this good. Yeah, maybe they  _should_ fuck you all the time, from here on out, maybe you should just go around with a pailful from each of them in you constantly and whenever the world seems too much to bear you could just kick back and feel this, this simple animal peace.

“Fuck, are you ever hot when you’re wasted,” Eridan says, cupping your face, and somewhere in the haze Feferi laughs beautifully. They kiss your face, your slack mouth, your slowing pulse, your sloppy uncoordinated hands, and you laugh a little too. Are you wasted? You kind of feel like for the first time maybe you’re  _not_  a waste, and say so.

“Oh, love,” Feferi says, and “No, Kar, shit,” says Eridan, and they rest their heads on the limp sprawl of your body.  

“Love you,” you say absently.

“Yeah,” they say, and “yes,” and “good,” and “you too, stupid."

“So,” you say, finally, kind of apprehensive even through the intense amount of post-sex brainfluff. “So… who’s am I?”

Eridan and Feferi look at each other for a long, tense minute, her with her hair a stormy mess and her fins splayed wide, Eridan rumple-haired too and bristling right back at her and the both of them still pumped up and twitchy with want. You can’t stop staring at the princess’s lashing, unsatisfied bulge, and the way Eridan’s chirring hungrily in his throat, you want Eridan’s bulge next time, you want Feferi’s mouth or either of their nooks and all of their hands and everything, you hatched out miserable and wrong as a wiggler and you  _want_.

“You’re ours,” Feferi says like a challenge, or a decree.

“Yeah, ours,” Eridan agrees gladly.

“Oh, thank god,” you say, and reach out to them.

There’s a lot more kissing, after that.

**Author's Note:**

>  _The depths turned the iron soft_  
>  _As they swiftly drowned_  
>  _And I brought the ocean side_  
>  _To its rusty knees_  
>  _As I felt the even tide_  
>  _Deep in my shallow dreams_  
>  —Owl City, "How I Became The Sea"


End file.
